EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS
Even though El Padre grew up in the Kensington section of Philadelphia (“The sport of boxball was invented at the corner of Gaul and Sergeant,” he maintained.), he was an inveterate frontrunner when it came to choosing a rooting interest in sports. His favorite teams were the Yankees, Packers, Celtics and Canadiens. For those of you scoring at home, that’s dynasty, dynasty, dynasty and dynasty. When it came to his partisan allegiances, El Padre wasn’t taking any chances.
Born in 1920, he had the opportunity to witness – sometimes in person, like that famous 0-0 tie between Army and Notre Dame in 1946 or the 1948 Eagles-Cardinals NFL Championship “Snow Ball” – some of the great sporting moments of the early-to-mid-20th Century. He saw Babe Ruth play. And Ty Cobb. He was present for several battles between Wilt and Russ. Even though El Padre was an intellectual at heart and adored the law profession he chose, he would argue (boy, would he argue) sports for hours.
He was also a fount of information. Ask him how some of the current-day ballplayers stacked up against various heroes from the past, and he could break it down, although his verdict almost always came down on the side of the old-timer. And he appreciated the value of seeing events in person. Rare was the time when a request by El Hombre or a Hermano to attend a contest was dismissed. If El Padre could make it, we were there. We usually left the game early, but we were still there. And that’s where this Father’s Day tale begins.
In 1969, baseball celebrated its 100th birthday, at least according to what generally passed as common knowledge. It was a big year for the MLB, since it added two teams to each league and split into divisions. Playoffs would be held for the first time, and little did anybody who followed the sport know, but the Miracle Mets would stun the sports world that fall by winning the World Series.
For a seven-year old beginning what would become a life-long emersion in sports, it was a heady time. The NFL was about to merge. The NHL was two years post-expansion. The NBA was at the end of the remarkable Celtic championship run. (“Ten fingers, eleven rings,” Russell used to say.) John Wooden and UCLA ruled the college basketball world. And college football, like its MLB counterpart, was commemorating its centennial. Of course, seven-year olds don’t pay much attention to that stuff, especially when they’re mesmerized by the wonder of it all.
On Aug. 9, that dream world became a reality, when El Padre took EH and his younger Hermano to their first baseball game. As one might expect from a person who appreciated the history of the game – not to mention one who was a big Yankees fan, even if the ’69 version of the team would finish 22 ½ games out of first place in the newly-minted AL Eastern Division – the setting for this inaugural encounter would be Yankee Stadium. Give El Padre points for understanding the significance of the event. You don’t see your first game at Connie Mack Stadium, where the wretched Phillies butchered the sport in front of tiny, disinterested aggregations. You got to The House That Ruth Built. On Old Timers Day.
So, we boarded the train in Philadelphia (El Padre didn’t drive) and headed north on a sunny Saturday. After pulling into Penn Station, we cabbed it to the ticket agency to collect our box seats for the game. Two things here. First, El Padre never bought a ticket at the box office. In Philadelphia, he used Sherry’s Ticket Agency for everything, and that’s who no doubt helped him procure the ducats for this contest. Second, naïve waif that El Hombre was, he thought our “box” seats actually consigned us to cardboard enclosures. Nonetheless, our arrival in the Bronx was cause for celebration, and EH’s first glimpse of the Stadium’s emerald grass and chocolate infield engendered in him an awe he has rarely encountered since. Our seats were not in boxes, rather between home plate and first base, about 20 rows off the field. In other words, perfect.
The parade of Old Timers was a thrill. Even though El Hombre was a novice in terms of baseball knowledge, names like DiMaggio, Mantle and Musial resonated, thanks to El Padre’s lessons. For someone more seasoned, the roster of stars on hand was indeed impressive. In addition to the aforementioned trio, Whitey Ford, King Kong Keller, Lefty Gomez, Tony Kubek and Moose Skowron were there, wearing pinstripes, while Lou Boudreau, Bob Feller, Robin Roberts and Bobby “The Giants Win The Pennant!” Thomson comprised the heart of the opposition. To top it off, the widows of Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig made appearances and received a thunderous ovation.
The two-inning game featured few highlights and ended in a 0-0 deadlock. The one enduring image was of DiMaggio’s gliding back in center to snare a line drive off the bat of Bobby Doerr. That was a great, one-handed, over-the-head catch, or at least it was until a few years later when El Padre explained that the Yankee Clipper had mistakenly broken in on the ball and had to adjust quickly to preserve his reputation. Still: DiMaggio. Yankee Stadium. Magic.
The Main Event turned out to be a taut one that featured complete games by New York’s Mel Stottlemyre and the A’s Chuck Dobson. The Yankees earned a 2-1 win behind a four-hitter by Stottlemyre, although we were gone by the time the home side pushed across the deciding run in the eighth. But the game’s outcome mattered less than the overall experience. The A’s looked great in their yellow sleeveless jerseys and pants, long-sleeved green undershirts, green stirrup socks and white shoes. The Yankees, of course, were sublime in the pinstripes. The big crowd of 50,945 – the third-largest that season – buzzed throughout the game and gave a young boy plenty to watch. It was a perfect afternoon, right down to the steak dinner in the train’s dining car on the way home. El Hombre has seen countless hundreds of games since then, but nothing compares. Not World Series games, NBA championship series contests, NFL playoff games, Stanley Cup playoff games. Not nothing.
The gold standard was established that Saturday nearly 41 years ago, and El Padre did it. It’s been 10 years since he died, and El Hombre wonders often whether he thanked him enough. For that game and everything else.
Thanks, Papa. Happy Father’s Day. You were the best.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: The refs jobbed the U.S. against Slovenia, but when you fall into a 2-0 hole, courtesy of typical first-half somnolence, you put yourself at the mercy of the arbiters. How about waking up early for next Wednesday’s game against Algeria? The future of soccer in the U.S. might just depend on the game’s outcome…News out of San Diego is that a 12-year old wants to set the record for fastest ascent up Mount Everest without supplemental oxygen. Just kidding. Then again, when parents are letting 16-year olds try to sail around the world, why not let a pre-teen scale the world’s tallest peak? Idiots…The conference carousel stopped early, with only four teams’ changing addresses. But here’s a word of advice to the folks at Baylor, Iowa State, Kansas State, South Florida and other undesirable expansion targets: get a plan together now. More mayhem is on the way…The Yankees are the first Majoke League Baseball team to ban vuvuzelas from the ballpark. The things can be annoying, but they’re certainly no worse than a drunken fan from Staten Island shouting for Jee-tah to get a hit. Talk about a nerve ending.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: Be sure to check out El Hombre’s alter ego on Philadelphia Magazine’s “Philly Post” (www.phillymag.com) Monday for an in-depth look at the Sixers’ NBA Draft possibilities next Thursday. It will be interesting to see – and several league execs feel the same way – whether the Sixers draft Evan Turner at number two, and if they do whether the team will keep both him and Andre Iguodala. More than one NBA personnel boss thinks the two players have the same skill set and that Iguodala would be superfluous if Turner were around. Could the Sixers take Turner and dish Iguodala to the Clippers for the eighth pick and a future choice? That would provide tremendous salary cap relief for a team that has $63 million committed for next season. Or, do they keep Iguodala and draft Derrick Favors (El Hombre’s choice), making Thaddeus Young expendable? Thursday’s trade that sent Samuel Dalembert to Sacramento for Spencer Hawes and Andres Nocioni was just the beginning of what should be an interesting week for the Sixers.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: The Lakers’ win over Boston Thursday night brought the franchise’s 16th World Championship and the fifth of Kobe Bryant’s career. Some believe the triumph cements his status as the best player ever to wear the Forum Blue and Gold. It says here that is nonsense. While Bryant is a great player, it’s instructive to remember that his first three titles came as “Little Brother” to Shaquille O’Neal, who earned MVP honors in the Finals from 2000-02. It is also important to remember Bryant’s incredibly selfish play in the years after O’Neal’s departure from the team. It’s also worth noting that there is no way the Lakers blow a 24-point lead at home – as they did in 2008 against Boston – with Magic Johnson on the team or lose a deciding Game Six by a humiliating 39 points, with Kareem Abdul-Jabbar on the floor. Bryant was lauded for “trusting his teammates” during this Finals series, but he didn’t look so confident in them during the first three quarters of Thursday’s game, when he shot a miserable 5-for-20 and tried to bowl through two and three defenders on his way to the hoop. Bryant’s legacy isn’t complete, but to put him ahead of Johnson and Abdul-Jabbar, two of the five best players ever, is absurd. Johnson was the consummate winner and leader who did everything necessary on the court, while Abdul-Jabbar is NBA’s all-time leading scorer and a six-time champ. It took 12 seasons for Bryant to focus on winning; let’s see how he closes out his career before pushing him ahead of Johnson and Abdul-Jabbar (and perhaps Jerry West) in the L.A. Valhalla.
-EH-
Showing posts with label Shaquille O'Neal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Shaquille O'Neal. Show all posts
Friday, June 18, 2010
Friday, November 7, 2008
The NBA: The Unexplainable Happens Here
EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS
No one who follows the NBA would have been surprised to learn that the Celtics’ championship ring ceremony included a special, clandestine presentation to former Boston forward Kevin McHale, without whom the ’08 NBA championship never would have been won. By gift-wrapping one of the league’s top five players – Kevin Garnett – for his old pal, Celts’ GM Danny Ainge, McHale gave a team that was without leadership or focus a laser-like intensity and the ability to climb from the league’s abyss to its top floor. The amazing thing is that Ainge actually had to convince Garnett to leave. He never wanted to move on from Minnesota, further proof of McHale’s burning desire to help his former team. A couple more deals like this, and we might have to change his first name to Elgin.
Ainge couldn’t convince his pal to make any other one-sided deals during the off-season (“Hey, Kevin, how about trading Al Jefferson back to us for Brian Scalabrine and Gabe Pruitt?”), so the Celtics defend their title with the same three-man nucleus that hoisted the club’s 17th banner. It’s not exactly ground chuck. Garnett remains the league’s premier interior defender, and Paul Pierce discovered that mixing hard work and tenacity with outstanding talent could produce pretty amazing results. The transformation that took place last year remains in tact, although it will be hard to forget that performance in the Finals when he behaved as if his knee had been chain-sawed, only to bound back onto the floor three minutes later like a springbok pronking for potential mates.
The Celtics will be big time contenders again, as will the Lakers. As for everybody else, it’s tough to tell. A.I. in Detroit could be more catastrophic than Ford’s recent performance. In Houston, the collective toll of injuries and/or suspensions for Yao, Me-Mac and Con Artest could be too much to allow for a launch. LeBron James is always a threat to carry Sideshow Bob and Friends to the Finals, where he’ll be shackled by a savvy defensive strategy. And let’s place some bets on whether Dallas or Phoenix will fall faster in the West.
The NBA season is upon us, and it’s time to celebrate. Or at least enjoy the highlights until the playoffs begin.
The Elder Statesman: Has Joe Dumars lost his mind? One of the NBA’s all-time straight shooters and team-first guys dished off a reliable, championship point guard (Chauncey Billups) for one of the biggest me-first guys in the NBA. If you want irrefutable evidence that the league is absolutely crazy, then examine this trade. Allen Iverson will absolutely help the Pistons score more, but that’s about it. Why do NBA GMs constantly believe that a new environment will change a player’s approach to the game? Former Georgetown coach John Thompson told El Hombre a long time ago about Iverson, “You can’t change a zebra’s stripes.” Ah, but there is an expiration date on the troubles. A.I.’s contract is up after this season, giving the Stones considerable cap flexibility (they could be as much as $19 mil under this summer). Coupled with the loss of the remaining two full seasons on Billups’ deal, Detroit could be rolling in dough come July 2010, when LBJ and Friends hit free agency. So, maybe Dumars isn’t so dumb after all.
The Big Disappointment: This year’s spin on the ridiculous decision by Phoenix to ruin their franchise by adding an overweight, uninspired, overrated, washed-up lane-clogger is that it takes some time to integrate a post player into an up-tempo attack. Riiiight. Shaq will be stealing $20 mil for each of the next two seasons. Meanwhile, the aging Suns will stagger around, trying to be the NBA’s version of Young@Heart. Instead, they’ll replicate Crash and lose their one-time Western pre-eminence. Phoenix fans will be advised to avert their eyes, or they’ll be tempted to make a citizen’s arrest of Shaq for larceny.
THE KNICKS! In Sensaround!: As disasters go, the 2007-08 New York Knicks season ranks well below the Hindenburg crash and Eddie Murphy’s singing career. But that doesn’t mean the team’s slide from proud contender to punch line wasn’t spectacularly catastrophic. The good news is that despite the subtraction of Isiah Thomas from the equation, the sequel ought to be just as a hair-raising. For Knicks fans, that is. The rest of us will stock up on popcorn and Junior Mints and enjoy the mayhem. It starts with the team’s hard-line approach to Stephon Marbury, whom they’ll pay ($21 mil) but won’t play. Then there is the motley collection overpriced hound dogs that comprises the bulk of the roster. Can you imagine the response when GM Donnie Walsh calls another team and inquires about interest in a trade for Eddy Curry or Quentin Richardson? On second thought, maybe this film should be considered a comedy.
Lost Cause: Here’s a message to all (both) you Nets fans out there: You’re screwed. Horribly, crushingly, tragically screwed. That new arena you expected in Crooklyn? Forget it. The economic downturn, coupled with civic pressures that would make Al Sharpton blush, have all but killed the project. That means five more years in the swamps or as second-class tenant status at the Prudential Center in Newark. Yum! And about that team of yours. Vince Carter is finished, Yi’s so bad he should be sent back to Beijing for re-education, you drafted the wrong Lopez and you couldn’t sell the rest of the team for 10 cents on the dollar. So much for that dream of signing LeBron when he hits free agency in ’10. Nice try, though. Enjoy the Lottery for the next 10 years and try to quell those nostalgic yearnings for the Derrick Coleman Era.
Yee-HAW!: It’s early still, so plenty of NBA teams have ugly records. But just wait for it. Not only will Oklahoma City retire the award as the NBA’s worst city, zooming past Sacramento, but the Thunder will also be the worst in the West. That’s saying something with Minnesota and Memphis around. Oh, yeah, that nickname is pretty awful, too. Why not Land Rush or Joads? Uncle David Stern is going to regret this one, that’s for sure. Not only will he have to put an expansion franchise in Seattle to soothe the wounds of a 40-year league member that got hosed by a jerk owner, but he’ll soon have to deal with the very real possibility that nobody will want to play in the Dust Bowl. Hey, at least attendance is high – for now. Give this mess a couple seasons, and it will be declared a Superfund site.
The Verdict: Here’s how it shakes out: Eastern Finals – Boston over Cleveland; Western Finals – Los Angeles over Utah. NBA Finals – Los Angeles over Boston.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: So why have all these colleges fired their coaches during the middle of the season? The better to get a jump on the search for the next guy. Syracuse and now Tennessee have already employed noted coaching headhunter Chuck Neinas to find their next coaches. The goal is to save recruiting, reassure ticketholders and stabilize the program. You want a culprit? Here’s a hint, it’s green…Agent Scott Boras is seeking a six-year deal for 36-year old Manny Ramirez. At $20-25 per. If any team gives the slugging leftfielder that money, it should be investigated. Manny played nice for a couple months, but it’s just a matter of time until he acts like a jackass again (and again). As for the idea of paying a 42-year old $25 million per, that didn’t even work with BALCO Bonds, and he was nearly 75% Cyborg by then…The latest example that there is hope for the cesspool that is big-time college athletics is Florida State safety Myron Rolle, who will miss the ‘Noles’ Nov. 22 game against Maryland to take part in the interview process for a Rhodes Scholarship. Rolle carries a 3.75 average in pre-med and played the lead role in “Fiddler on the Roof” as a prep senior. The best part? It wasn’t even a tough decision. Congrats, Myron, and knock ‘em dead…Let’s all form a prayer circle for the Cowboys, whose recent free-fall has been a victory for those who can’t stand meddling owners who think accumulating “stars” is the way to assemble a winning football team. Sure, injuries have played a part, but the decision to sign Space Invaders Jones and the overpayment for receiver Roy Williams proves that Owner/GM/Dictator-for-life Jerry Jones is more enamored of big splashes than wins. Keep it up, False Face.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? It may be a little overdramatic to label the Eagles’ game with New York Sunday night as make-or-break, especially since seven contests remain after that, but there is plenty at stake and not just in the NFC East standings. The city has lost its sporting edge somewhat in the wake of the Phillies’ World Series win, and that means a little of that pent-up frustration and passion have been replaced by the contentment of a championship. If the Birds lose at home to the Giants, they risk losing some of their preeminence. Over the past 15-20 years, Philadelphia became a football town, largely because fans thought the best chance for a title was a Super Bowl win. Now that the Phillies have broken the 25-year jinx, the urgency surrounding the Eagles has dissipated some. Losing the game Sunday will make winning the division title extremely difficult and relegate the Birds to the wild-card pool, from which Super Bowl success is tough to achieve. (Last year excepted, of course.) The Phillies rule the town, but the Eagles have a chance to keep their status with a victory. A loss could trigger talks of rebuilding and begin the countdown to April 6, 2009 – baseball’s opening day.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: The most recent nominee for Ratfink of the Year is Arizona AD Jim Livengood, who refused to let freshman center Jeff Withey out of his scholarship, after coach Lute Olson retired abruptly last week for health reasons. Here’s another example of a school’s trying to exact some sort of revenge against a teenager, and it stinks like the bathroom in an NFL locker room after bean burritos were served at the training table. Withey came to Arizona to play for Olson, and now that the coach is no longer there, he has every right to transfer. Letters-of-intent are year-by-year, giving the school the power to get rid of anybody it wants. Meanwhile, the players are held to the whims of vengeful administrators like Livengood, who will force Withey to miss this season, rather than cut him loose. The next time you hear a school, coach or the NC2A say that it’s about the kids, reach for the Pepto. Better yet, tape the lie and use it to induce vomiting if you ever ingest poison accidentally. Shame on you, Livengood.
-EH-
No one who follows the NBA would have been surprised to learn that the Celtics’ championship ring ceremony included a special, clandestine presentation to former Boston forward Kevin McHale, without whom the ’08 NBA championship never would have been won. By gift-wrapping one of the league’s top five players – Kevin Garnett – for his old pal, Celts’ GM Danny Ainge, McHale gave a team that was without leadership or focus a laser-like intensity and the ability to climb from the league’s abyss to its top floor. The amazing thing is that Ainge actually had to convince Garnett to leave. He never wanted to move on from Minnesota, further proof of McHale’s burning desire to help his former team. A couple more deals like this, and we might have to change his first name to Elgin.
Ainge couldn’t convince his pal to make any other one-sided deals during the off-season (“Hey, Kevin, how about trading Al Jefferson back to us for Brian Scalabrine and Gabe Pruitt?”), so the Celtics defend their title with the same three-man nucleus that hoisted the club’s 17th banner. It’s not exactly ground chuck. Garnett remains the league’s premier interior defender, and Paul Pierce discovered that mixing hard work and tenacity with outstanding talent could produce pretty amazing results. The transformation that took place last year remains in tact, although it will be hard to forget that performance in the Finals when he behaved as if his knee had been chain-sawed, only to bound back onto the floor three minutes later like a springbok pronking for potential mates.
The Celtics will be big time contenders again, as will the Lakers. As for everybody else, it’s tough to tell. A.I. in Detroit could be more catastrophic than Ford’s recent performance. In Houston, the collective toll of injuries and/or suspensions for Yao, Me-Mac and Con Artest could be too much to allow for a launch. LeBron James is always a threat to carry Sideshow Bob and Friends to the Finals, where he’ll be shackled by a savvy defensive strategy. And let’s place some bets on whether Dallas or Phoenix will fall faster in the West.
The NBA season is upon us, and it’s time to celebrate. Or at least enjoy the highlights until the playoffs begin.
The Elder Statesman: Has Joe Dumars lost his mind? One of the NBA’s all-time straight shooters and team-first guys dished off a reliable, championship point guard (Chauncey Billups) for one of the biggest me-first guys in the NBA. If you want irrefutable evidence that the league is absolutely crazy, then examine this trade. Allen Iverson will absolutely help the Pistons score more, but that’s about it. Why do NBA GMs constantly believe that a new environment will change a player’s approach to the game? Former Georgetown coach John Thompson told El Hombre a long time ago about Iverson, “You can’t change a zebra’s stripes.” Ah, but there is an expiration date on the troubles. A.I.’s contract is up after this season, giving the Stones considerable cap flexibility (they could be as much as $19 mil under this summer). Coupled with the loss of the remaining two full seasons on Billups’ deal, Detroit could be rolling in dough come July 2010, when LBJ and Friends hit free agency. So, maybe Dumars isn’t so dumb after all.
The Big Disappointment: This year’s spin on the ridiculous decision by Phoenix to ruin their franchise by adding an overweight, uninspired, overrated, washed-up lane-clogger is that it takes some time to integrate a post player into an up-tempo attack. Riiiight. Shaq will be stealing $20 mil for each of the next two seasons. Meanwhile, the aging Suns will stagger around, trying to be the NBA’s version of Young@Heart. Instead, they’ll replicate Crash and lose their one-time Western pre-eminence. Phoenix fans will be advised to avert their eyes, or they’ll be tempted to make a citizen’s arrest of Shaq for larceny.
THE KNICKS! In Sensaround!: As disasters go, the 2007-08 New York Knicks season ranks well below the Hindenburg crash and Eddie Murphy’s singing career. But that doesn’t mean the team’s slide from proud contender to punch line wasn’t spectacularly catastrophic. The good news is that despite the subtraction of Isiah Thomas from the equation, the sequel ought to be just as a hair-raising. For Knicks fans, that is. The rest of us will stock up on popcorn and Junior Mints and enjoy the mayhem. It starts with the team’s hard-line approach to Stephon Marbury, whom they’ll pay ($21 mil) but won’t play. Then there is the motley collection overpriced hound dogs that comprises the bulk of the roster. Can you imagine the response when GM Donnie Walsh calls another team and inquires about interest in a trade for Eddy Curry or Quentin Richardson? On second thought, maybe this film should be considered a comedy.
Lost Cause: Here’s a message to all (both) you Nets fans out there: You’re screwed. Horribly, crushingly, tragically screwed. That new arena you expected in Crooklyn? Forget it. The economic downturn, coupled with civic pressures that would make Al Sharpton blush, have all but killed the project. That means five more years in the swamps or as second-class tenant status at the Prudential Center in Newark. Yum! And about that team of yours. Vince Carter is finished, Yi’s so bad he should be sent back to Beijing for re-education, you drafted the wrong Lopez and you couldn’t sell the rest of the team for 10 cents on the dollar. So much for that dream of signing LeBron when he hits free agency in ’10. Nice try, though. Enjoy the Lottery for the next 10 years and try to quell those nostalgic yearnings for the Derrick Coleman Era.
Yee-HAW!: It’s early still, so plenty of NBA teams have ugly records. But just wait for it. Not only will Oklahoma City retire the award as the NBA’s worst city, zooming past Sacramento, but the Thunder will also be the worst in the West. That’s saying something with Minnesota and Memphis around. Oh, yeah, that nickname is pretty awful, too. Why not Land Rush or Joads? Uncle David Stern is going to regret this one, that’s for sure. Not only will he have to put an expansion franchise in Seattle to soothe the wounds of a 40-year league member that got hosed by a jerk owner, but he’ll soon have to deal with the very real possibility that nobody will want to play in the Dust Bowl. Hey, at least attendance is high – for now. Give this mess a couple seasons, and it will be declared a Superfund site.
The Verdict: Here’s how it shakes out: Eastern Finals – Boston over Cleveland; Western Finals – Los Angeles over Utah. NBA Finals – Los Angeles over Boston.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: So why have all these colleges fired their coaches during the middle of the season? The better to get a jump on the search for the next guy. Syracuse and now Tennessee have already employed noted coaching headhunter Chuck Neinas to find their next coaches. The goal is to save recruiting, reassure ticketholders and stabilize the program. You want a culprit? Here’s a hint, it’s green…Agent Scott Boras is seeking a six-year deal for 36-year old Manny Ramirez. At $20-25 per. If any team gives the slugging leftfielder that money, it should be investigated. Manny played nice for a couple months, but it’s just a matter of time until he acts like a jackass again (and again). As for the idea of paying a 42-year old $25 million per, that didn’t even work with BALCO Bonds, and he was nearly 75% Cyborg by then…The latest example that there is hope for the cesspool that is big-time college athletics is Florida State safety Myron Rolle, who will miss the ‘Noles’ Nov. 22 game against Maryland to take part in the interview process for a Rhodes Scholarship. Rolle carries a 3.75 average in pre-med and played the lead role in “Fiddler on the Roof” as a prep senior. The best part? It wasn’t even a tough decision. Congrats, Myron, and knock ‘em dead…Let’s all form a prayer circle for the Cowboys, whose recent free-fall has been a victory for those who can’t stand meddling owners who think accumulating “stars” is the way to assemble a winning football team. Sure, injuries have played a part, but the decision to sign Space Invaders Jones and the overpayment for receiver Roy Williams proves that Owner/GM/Dictator-for-life Jerry Jones is more enamored of big splashes than wins. Keep it up, False Face.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? It may be a little overdramatic to label the Eagles’ game with New York Sunday night as make-or-break, especially since seven contests remain after that, but there is plenty at stake and not just in the NFC East standings. The city has lost its sporting edge somewhat in the wake of the Phillies’ World Series win, and that means a little of that pent-up frustration and passion have been replaced by the contentment of a championship. If the Birds lose at home to the Giants, they risk losing some of their preeminence. Over the past 15-20 years, Philadelphia became a football town, largely because fans thought the best chance for a title was a Super Bowl win. Now that the Phillies have broken the 25-year jinx, the urgency surrounding the Eagles has dissipated some. Losing the game Sunday will make winning the division title extremely difficult and relegate the Birds to the wild-card pool, from which Super Bowl success is tough to achieve. (Last year excepted, of course.) The Phillies rule the town, but the Eagles have a chance to keep their status with a victory. A loss could trigger talks of rebuilding and begin the countdown to April 6, 2009 – baseball’s opening day.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: The most recent nominee for Ratfink of the Year is Arizona AD Jim Livengood, who refused to let freshman center Jeff Withey out of his scholarship, after coach Lute Olson retired abruptly last week for health reasons. Here’s another example of a school’s trying to exact some sort of revenge against a teenager, and it stinks like the bathroom in an NFL locker room after bean burritos were served at the training table. Withey came to Arizona to play for Olson, and now that the coach is no longer there, he has every right to transfer. Letters-of-intent are year-by-year, giving the school the power to get rid of anybody it wants. Meanwhile, the players are held to the whims of vengeful administrators like Livengood, who will force Withey to miss this season, rather than cut him loose. The next time you hear a school, coach or the NC2A say that it’s about the kids, reach for the Pepto. Better yet, tape the lie and use it to induce vomiting if you ever ingest poison accidentally. Shame on you, Livengood.
-EH-
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